


The Beauty of Broken Things

by ladyknightanka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bloodplay, Depressed Sam, Excessive Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, Language, M/M, Mild Language, Stalking, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1293739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightanka/pseuds/ladyknightanka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes missing on a pleasant Sunday evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beauty of Broken Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellacatbee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/gifts).



-

The Beauty of Broken Things

-

Dean goes missing on a pleasant Sunday evening.

Adam doesn’t hear about it till three days later, when Sam finally gets worried enough to call him at his college, and even though Adam and Dean have a sort of tempestuous relationship, he hauls ass to Kansas because his brothers are the only family he has left.

Sam’s a wreck. Adam has always teased him and Dean for having such a disturbingly codependent relationship, in contrast to the fierce independence his own mother had drummed into him, but he never expected to experience the fallout of one of them losing the other.

He knows he’s not enough to comfort Sam. That becomes evident a week into his stay at the Winchesers' humble abode, and goddamn, it’s so _frustrating_ to watch Sam stagger around like a zombie, ignoring Adam’s attempts to take care of him at every turn. That’s how he ends up meeting Michael, because the very next weekend, after Sam drinks himself into an unconscious stupor, Adam puts him to bed and escapes. For just a little while, he has to get away.

Kansas isn’t much for entertainment, but there are bars aplenty. Adam holes himself up in one with a fake ID, and grins with all the charm his daddy left him when the bartender comments on his baby-face, before directing said grin to the darkly handsome man who takes a seat on the stool next to him.

“New in town?” the guy asks, voice low and smooth.

“Nah,” replies Adam, beaming into the drink ordered for him. “My doofus brothers live around here, so I drop by now and again.”

“Is that so?” The smile he receives is equal parts lascivious and inquisitive. “My name’s Michael.”

Adam introduces himself, because what the hell? Michael’s hot as sin, and Adam’s being a good little brother. He deserves a piece of that action, if Michael’s going to be offering it. So he ends up pressed against the tiles of the bar’s bathroom wall, Michael’s mouth rough over his own, incisive teeth nipping at Adam’s lips and neck hard enough to score delicate skin.

Michael takes him home, but when Adam wakes up the next morning, he’s alone on a gargantuan bed, his discarded clothes folded neatly nearby. Relishing in the pleasant twinge his body gives, he gets dressed and wanders out to look for Michael, but despite hearing murmurs in the walls, all the doors he comes across are locked. No one comes out to say goodbye.

Vaguely disappointed, and more than a little unnerved by the lifelike eyes of various classic paintings hung on the walls, he exits the lavish mansion Michael had brought him to, and discovers that its exterior is unduly dilapidated. Like something straight out of a horror movie, its windows are barred and vines crawl across its wilted siding.

He runs all the way back to the bar where he abandoned his car, then drives home, heart hammering in his ribs. For the first time since Dean’s disappearance, Sam greets him with fierce intent, grabbing Adam’s face in two big hands to ask, “Where _were_ you?”

“I-I just went to town,” Adam hears himself stammer, before he’s engulfed in Sam’s embrace.

They’re proximate enough that he can make out the whispers muffled into his hair, all some variation of, “I thought you left, too. I woke up and saw you were gone. I thought you left.”

That’s when he knows, no matter how trying it is, he can’t leave Sam to shoulder this burden alone. He hugs his older brother back, harder than he ever has before, and endeavors to convince him with the fierceness of his grip alone that everything will be fine, even if he’s not so confident himself.

After that, he doesn’t hit the bars again, and starts to become a staple in the town. The neighbors greet him cheerfully, calling him “John’s boy” and offering to set him up with their daughters. Although he always declines, it reminds him a bit of Windom. As he weaves through aisles of the local supermarket, musing their next meal, he even considers transferring to a college closer to Sam.

The issue, of course, is the pervasive feeling of being watched wherever he goes, but he allocates that to being new, being an oddity, being transiently interesting. One night, during dinner, he spies rustling bushes outside the dining room window, and thinks he sees a familiar silhouette standing just prior them, next to someone with a mess of dark hair.

He gapes for a moment too long, pasta dribbling off his fork, and then Sam asks, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Adam says.

It’s true. The second he’d glanced away from the window, the figures had vanished. Sam’s been getting better, is slowly but surely coming alive again, and Adam doesn’t want to slow his recovery, so he keeps his mouth shut.

But his paranoia grows. By the time a month passes, and the police stop by to apologize for not having any leads, to hint yet again that they’re convinced Dean left of his own volition, Adam’s almost positive there really is someone, _something_ , stalking them. He recognizes a battered leather jacket in a crowd once, the jacket his father had passed onto Dean, but never manages to catch up to the guy wearing it, walking arm and arm with another dark-haired man.

Although the hickies on his neck have long since faded, his dreams are plagued by the roving eyes in the mansion’s paintings. They judge him as he and Michael make love. On his way home from an interview at the local college, he hears whispers all around him, whispers of his name, at once luring him in and warning him away.

On a different Sunday evening, he’s chopping up vegetables while Sam dozes in front of the TV, when he notices another lurking figure through the window. Barely aware of the slash the knife hacks into his palm, he runs out of the house, droplets of blood leaving a trail behind him.

He isn’t surprised to see Michael. Not surprised, but _angry_ and exhausted, he shoves at a hard chest with his mangled hand and demands, “What? What is it? What the hell do you people want from us?”

Expression pained, Michael gently grasps Adam’s wounded hand in both of his own. He brings it up to his mouth and murmurs an apology into it, as Adam gawks, wide-eyed. Part of Adam wants to rip it away, but the rest is so goddamn _tired_.

At only nineteen, he shouldn’t be this mired in loss. He shouldn’t have to uproot his life so often. He’s come to love Sam, but he sorely wants to know why everyone else is allowed to fall apart, why everyone else expects him to put them back together again, when no one ever does the same for him.

“What do you want?” he asks again, shoulders drooping.

Michael presses a kiss to his hand. Adam feels the moistness of his tongue and lips, which inevitably stain a beautiful red, but though Michael’s pupils dilate like a crouching predator’s, his voice pitches tender and soothing.

“I want you to come with me,” he says, “so I can heal you.”

On an impulse, Adam asks, “Will you take me to my brother?”

Michael’s brows knit together, but he nods. Adam lets him wrap his arms around his waist. He’s not sure how Michael does it, or how long it takes, but they end up inside the mansion again. Once upon a time, he would have blamed dizziness from blood loss for the experience.

Now, he merely gawps at Dean, who stands beside a dark-haired man with vividly blue eyes in a plush, old-fashioned foyer. Pale as the cadavers Adam had studied in biology, he scowls between Adam and Michael for a tense instant, then growls, “Why did you bring him back? I told you not to touch him again.”

Michael looks at Adam as he says, “I want to ask him to stay, but only if he wants to.”

“He doesn’t,” Dean answers in Adam’s stead.

The man beside Dean sets a quelling hand on his bicep, but Michael says, “You did,” and the words cut deep enough to make Dean grimace.

Adam has very little idea what they’re talking about, but he does know he doesn’t want Dean making any decisions for him when he’s still shaking with suppressed rage over the fact that Dean had been in the mansion the entire time, a fifteen minute drive away, while their brother broke into jagged pieces.

When he asks “What about Sam?” everyone around him flinches.

At last, Michael says, “Sam is welcome, too. I know we seem strange to you, Adam, but we’re a family. There are others, and we all take care of one another.” _I’d take care of you,_ goes unspoken. “Will you stay?”

Adam wants to shout a refusal and stomp out. He has half a mind to drag Dean back home, kicking and screaming. But Michael asking it of him gives him pause, because he remembers the soft touch of Michael’s fingers and lips on his injured hand, and knows Michael could have forced him easily. That makes him curious.

“No,” he says. Michael’s expression crumples, but ignoring him, Adam shoves his bloodied arm out and continues, “I’ll let you bandage me up, and let you explain everything to me, and let Dean explain it to Sam. Then, _maybe_ , I’ll let you take me out again, on a real date this time, and if you don’t fuck that up with your Edward Cullen nonsense, maybe I’ll stay. But only then.”

Dean’s groan is worth the elated smile that alights on Michael’s face. All together, they go to Sam.

-

La Fin

-

**Author's Note:**

> I've missed writing Michael/Adam _a lot_ , so thanks, Bella, for your prompt! I didn't mean for it to be this creepy, but...vampires. Yeah. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
